


The Mystery and Mysterious

by TalentedLoser



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalentedLoser/pseuds/TalentedLoser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was drawn to her, and she to him. A collection of moments in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interest

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble collection for another ship. It's my curse. Or blessing. Mostly curse.

He could still feel her lips. 

He didn’t know what to think when it happened, but they were alone in his car. She had happened to be walking out in the rain when his car passed, and she was going to be soaking wet by the time she got home. He remembered her passing thought of forgetting her umbrella at home ("Silly me, really"). So he offered a ride. 

Mistake number one.

The ride was tolerable. They chatted about school, about the club’s activities, anything else. He even talked about her father, and asked how he was (he was fine). She asked of his family, too ("They are alive"). She noticed he was exhausted, and he tried to reassure her that he was fine.

Mistake number two.

She said, “You should take better care of yourself, Kyouya.”

He replied, “Is that so?”

She nodded. “There would be people who would miss you at school.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. “I hardly doubt it.”

She shrugged. Then she looked out the car window.

He noticed the silence they produced and instead listened to himself. And he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. It was a rare moment to see her without anyone else seeing him. He, the one who had slowly begun to fall for the woman next to him. He, the one who would not deny he had feelings for her. And the sounds were deafening. 

The car stopped. She thanked him, and told him to get well. He smiled. “As I will, Haruhi, for you.” And she smiled. Then there was a moment—for a split second, he didn’t know what would happen. It terrified him. 

But then he felt her lips on his cheeks, the burning cheeks ever since she entered his car. 

He tried to guard himself from being detected, but her eyes locked with his. Then, a second later, she became aware, so aware that her face burned as well, and she was practically leaping from the car. 

He did not watch her go to her home; he did not look back as they were driving away. He just felt the burn on his cheek.

Mistake number three.

And then he smiled, leaning back into his seat.

“Interesting.”


	2. It Will Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is your taste?"
> 
> He could only smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble, another day.

She stared at her ceiling. 

She knew when it started, when he became more included in her bubble, when the stares would linger, when—she closed her eyes. It was all very stupid; she had no time for a silly concept called love—was it love? No, love was more powerful than what she had, it had to be. Like? Possibly. 

Whatever it was, it was stupid, and that was a fact.

But she was stuck on the fence. It started in the music room, when the hosts were with their guests, and she was fixing her guests coffee. He had been standing near her, taking notes of everything, as he always did, and she had to say something. Was it because she wanted to be seen by him? 

Possibly. 

But so not true.

“Hey, Kyouya?” He turned around. 

God, she felt her heart skip a beat. This was definitely not happening. “Yes, Haruhi?”

She rested against the table with the coffee. “How come you never have guests?”

He did nothing. He just stared. “Someone has to run the logistics of this place.”

“I suppose, but haven’t you been asked to be someone’s host?” 

“Indeed I have,” and it shocked her. She had not seen such a thing happen, and yet it must’ve. “However, they are not the type to enjoy my company.”

“And you know this how?”

He smirked. “Everyone has a taste; theirs would never liken to my own.”

“Then what is your taste?”

His smile grew wider, and he turned around. “Don’t you have customers to attend to?”

Damn rich bastard, she thought, tossing around on her bed once more. She closed her eyes and snuggled under her blankets. It was all very stupid, and she would not dwell on such a thing. It will pass, she thought once more, turning again on her mattress.

Possibly.


	3. Enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enigma (n.): a person or thing that is puzzling, mysterious, or difficult to understand or deal with. 
> 
> Yes, he thought; this was she.

“Absolutely not.”

A woman’s voice boomed in the office of the Ootori name. The men in the room looked at the petite girl— _woman_ —sitting in front of a desk, with a powerful and fearsome and stoic man sitting across from her behind said desk. Her fierce brown eyes stared into the glare of his glasses, and she hoped her stare was intimidating enough to send the message across to the older gentleman. She heard few murmurs circulate the room. Who was she to talk back to Yoshio Ootori? How could she deny him? But just as soon as the murmurs started, she heard them start to fade away when a smirk briefly graced his face.

The only response Yoshio had was to lean back in his chair. Haruhi Fujioka, he thought, was some enigma. Just when he thought he figured her out, she would surprise him, and it would intrigue him. He knew why his youngest son, the heir to his business and world, took such a liking to her, and stuck by her even after his high school years. It fascinated him, all of it. So all he could do was look at her, awestruck, and lean back to take a good look at her. She still looked the same as she had when he last saw her, some months ago, at a gala with Kyouya. Her hair was growing out a little, but she still looked petite and still looked as young as she did at Ouran. And, what he found the most amazing was the determination he always saw in her stare right back at him in that office.

The only reason she was there, without Kyouya’s knowledge, was because he thought he could help the two out. They had been talking back and forth about his retirement, and how it would affect their relationship in general. She was still working on her degree in law, and Kyouya would have to take over the company and its business. It would mean they would have to take their relationship to the next step, and she had seemed to be accepting of the situation, but he was not. He saw it as his father trying to control the last bit of his life he had to himself, and she thought it to be absurd. So absurd, she said, that “your father would not have the time to think of such a matter.”

Yoshio did have time. A man had to rest at some point in the day, even if the world watched your every move in your sleep, too. How would his youngest feel, he thought, if she were proposed by his father? She seemed excited about the prospect—and who wouldn’t? So he brought her into his office, sat her down, and there they were. Those in the room with them had no respect for the woman, but he—he held her above most others, aside from his offspring.

“And why, may I ask, would you refuse it?”

It was a good question, according to those in the room. The offer was ripe for the taking; all she had to do was say yes. But, instead, she was Haruhi Fujioka. If a question was asked, she would most likely surprise you with her blunt response. So when she stood from her chair and looked down at the older man, only the rest around the desk was shocked at her behavior. Yoshio did not feel intimidated, but she was quite the sight to see. Her response? Well, that, too, was something else.

“If Kyouya wants to marry me, then he can ask me himself.”

It all happened so fast, and then it was done. A few footsteps and a click of a door later, and she was gone. The murmurs started again, with Yoshio’s workers wondering what kind of woman he just dealt with, and why she was still with Kyouya if she spoke to Yoshio like that. He knew why. Still leaning in his chair, he turned and looked out the window. He saw Kyouya walking through the gates of the premises, unaware of the meeting that had just occurred. Yes, he knew why his youngest was still with her, after years of being together as friends and lovers. 

Yoshio just smiled.

Quite the enigma indeed, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick write. I feel Yoshio would try to meddle. 
> 
> Enjoy.


	4. Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, he would not call it an obsession; it was merely business.

Kyouya would not call it an obsession; it was merely business. See, in the Ouran Host Club, there were certain events and ideas which needed to be jotted down daily. Sometimes, a person or people would do something within the club that needed to be addressed or merely written down for merit. Maybe the twins did something new that attracted more customers for them; perhaps Tamaki got way too many flowers for an event and spent way too much money in the first place because that’s just how he is.

Or, sometimes, and it was rare, a girl would intrigue the whole room and he would need to write and write and write until there were no more pages on which to write. He had written her name so many times, it seemed, that it started to look wrong. _Haruhi, Haruhi, Haruhi…_ Maybe she said something sentimental toward a customer that sparked a fire inside him to write about. Or, possibly, she would break another plate because she tripped on the edge of a couch (that he had nothing to do with) and he would have to write down the monetary value of said plate (and hear her mutter something about him being a bastard).

Then there were days where he just watched. No, it was not an obsession; it was merely business. See, he needed to make sure she was doing her job well and performing at her best. Kyouya would watch as she would genuinely smile at her customers and notice how all would light up around her. He noticed how she would seem so alone when she believed no one was looking. He even listened and noted the way she laughed around certain people, either the other hosts or the customers. Around customers, it was a small giggle or chuckle that would entertain them. Around the hosts, sometimes it would be the same chuckle, or it would be something true to herself, something that everyone would hear and be entrapped over.

Haruhi sometimes looked exhausted, and he would try to mention this to her, but she would brush him off and continue with work. There were only a few times where the host club would be going on while a storm was approaching, and he noted how she looked for each one (fear usually overwhelmed her, but she would do her best to reassure her customers she was okay). Other times, she looked completely content and happy where she was, and he would take note of each day that was. It was surprising to him on how many days it was written down.

Again, he would not call it an obsession; it was merely business. If the hosts were not producing up to their full potential, he would need to address it at the next meeting. Most advice was taken and never discussed again, as he would set them straight about it all. She seemed to be the only one to fight back sometimes—and only sometimes. There were other days where she would talk to him, and only him, and he would need to write it all down before it was gone the next day. He would need it all recorded down to make sure it was all—real. And he would argue it would only be because evidence would be needed if some problem arose with the hosts.

He reassured himself no such thing would happen, especially with her. And that day was no different.

-x-

Kyouya listened to the shuffle of feet scurry out of the room. The hosts were saying their farewells to their customers while he wrote down the interactions he noticed throughout the event. It was a relative success and there had been no real issues throughout. Once the doors closed, the hosts flopped on the couches in exhaustion and contentment. Most were outspoken about their success.

“That was fun!” Huni chirped. Mori next to him would nod in agreement. Kyouya looked over at the hosts and noticed how they sat. Most sat on one side of the room, but only the girl ( _Haruhi, Haruhi, Haruhi…_ ) sat on the other side. So, naturally, he sat next to her. He wished not to be cramped next to Tamaki, who was speaking in a whirlwind about the event (“Oh, Kyouya, we must do this another time!”), and the twins, who were naturally teasing him (“Why? So you can trip on your costume again?”). He did not look at her, but he did notice how she slightly straightened her posture when he sat down. No one else would notice; he would.

He would say something about the event, maybe something about how it was a success and that the numbers would need to be crunched before they knew for sure. But, in his head, he would think about how close they sat to one another, how small she seemed compared to him. He did not realize how petite she was. Sometimes, as he spoke, he would move his hands and brush against her. She was warm. The fabric she wore was soft. And, when he occasionally looked over at her, she looked at him with interest. It was—intense.

As such, the small meeting would be done in minutes, the hosts changed into their uniforms and out of their costumes, and most would leave. The only ones left behind would be the one still crunching numbers, and the girl who felt the need to help straighten the room. They said little, and little was needed to be said.

He sat by the window of the room when she finally walked over to him. It had been so many minutes since he sat at the table and she started to place what was out in some boxes. He watched her talk to herself when she did not know where certain things went (and then watched as she basically resigned to the fact she would just put them in boxes and hope that was acceptable, which it was). He had this way of looking as though he was working on something, but he was watching. This was no different; she would look at him from time to time while he would look at her. A moment would pass, and then she would go back to what she was doing; he would, too, in a way.

He was actually crunching the numbers when she came to the table, standing next to him. A rare occasion, perhaps, but as he would say, it was not an obsession; it was merely business. “So,” she spoke. He looked up. Externally, he probably looked serious. Internally, he noted how soft she spoke when no one else was around, as though she was afraid someone would hear them. She still looked and spoke with confidence, and he admired that. She looked tired, what with the slight sweat and red cheeks (the boxes she lifted from one table to another were most likely heavy), but she still stared at him with close intent. He would have to write it down. “How did we do?”

Kyouya leaned back in his chair. “We made a profit; I do not know the actual profit made.” It was a guess. He had spent the last few minutes looking over the expenses and the number of customers for the event. It had looked as though it were profitable. But, he knew she did not care about the numbers. She was making small talk, like she usually does when she was about to leave for the day. He noticed how she lowered her eyes to look at his notebook, trying to peek into his world, but the moment did not last too long, for the notebook was closed in front of him. She looked back up while he slid the chair out and rose, hand still on the notebook. He noticed how her eyes, and head, followed.

“Ah,” she whispered. She looked down once more; he watched her shoulders rise, then fall—a quick breath, then Haruhi’s eyes were back looking at his. Again, he saw how small she was compared to him; he wondered how he forgot such a thing after their time at the beach many months ago. Perhaps he would need to revisit—but he heard her feet slightly tap against the floorboards, something even a mouse might not catch, and his attention was brought back to her brown eyes staring into his steeled ones. He wondered how he looked; was he vulnerable? What was she thinking about? It was hard to tell, even with all the notes he had. She opened her mouth to speak. “Is there anything else needed to be done?”

He was disappointed; there was no other work to be done. Kyouya shook his head. Then, he put his hand on her shoulder. He had never done such a thing before, as far as he knew, and he could feel her slightly jump at the contact. Her red cheeks remained. “You did well today, Haruhi,” he said. It was true; her performance was exceptional during the event. His hand left her shoulder. Kyouya felt it was necessary to praise her. He did not realize, however, how she would light up with the sun, even though it was setting before them. It was small—her smile only grew so much before she shied away and rubbed the back of her head—but it was massive to him. She tried to hide it from him, and he tried to hide his surprise, but the eyes saw what they saw. His fingers slightly tapped against his notebook; he needed it recorded. It had to be written down.

Then, she looked back up. He saw her rub her hands together. “If you say so, Kyouya,” she said back. Everything after was so insignificant compared to those words, to those actions made by her. He thought he asked her if he needed a ride home (he did, but it was not important) and maybe they exchanged farewells for the day (they did, but all he did was watch her walk out the door). But all of that was nothing compared to how she reacted. It was something new. It had to be written down. And as he watched her leave the school grounds from the window, he had his notebook in his hand, writing down the same name that looked so wrong but was spelled so right. _Haruhi, Haruhi, Haruhi…_

No, he would not call it an obsession; it was merely business.

And, he mused to himself, business was rather good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something quick and messy. I might write in Haruhi's perspective. Don't know yet.
> 
> See you next time.


End file.
